Star Wars: Hand of Phrike
by Xander Floyd
Summary: In 2 BBY, a group of smugglers encounter an unexpected window into the past when they awaken a three-thousand-year-old Jedi from a carbonite slumber. Accompanied by this ragtag bunch, the Jedi must confront the realities of the present and the specter of the past, as he wasn't the only relic to be preserved... OCs galore, rated T for violence and some crude Star Wars language.
1. Chapter 1

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER ONE: AWAKENING

* * *

Coruscant, 3653 BBY

Jedi Temple

* * *

Most people of the galaxy, when they think about the Jedi Knights, think of the epic battles fought decades ago, rife with heroism and daring deeds. However, most Jedi were in fact more peaceful than the galaxy would care to believe, spending much of their day meditating over the living or Unifying Force or training for the days that the opposite of peace may be needed to preserve the Republic. Such was happening on this particular day, as a Master sat cross-legged on a mat while his Padawan blocked laser bolts from a training drone.

Neither of them could've guessed what kind of chaos was to come that day, but both seemed to know that something was not right. The Padawan waved his hand to shut off the drone and turned to his Master. "Master Kalm, do you feel that something is… _off_ about today?"

Kalm looked up, seeming equally perturbed. "Yes… but then again, this sort of feeling has been normal for the past couple of years."

"Do you think the Republic will do it? Take the Sith's offer?"

Now Master Kalm sighed. "It would not be wise to completely trust the Sith, Rhett. However, if this war does continue, I fear for the survival of the Republic."

Rhett looked down, despondent. "Do you think the Sith will try something today?"

"I doubt it; with both delegations at Alderaan right now, I highly doubt that the Sith would even dare-"

Right about then, there was a loud hum in the air, as if some electrical generator within the Temple has just keeled over and died. Figuratively speaking, of course.

"What was that?"

Kalm looked up, the look on his face growing more and more worried. Then he stood up and took out his lightsaber. "That was the defense grid; it's been shut down. We need to get out of here."

There was a crashing and crumbling of mortar in the main halls, causing Rhett to grab his own lightsaber before realizing it was a training model. "Blast… Master Kalm, I need-"

"Even if you had a true lightsaber, I doubt that it would help you much if that sound means what I think it means." Kalm crept up to the door and slid it open, only to see destruction like he had never seen on Coruscant. In the center of the rubble, there was a large starcraft that had apparently crash-landed right into the Temple. Kalm and Rhett saw the Grand Master, Ven Zallow, peer into the open doors of the shuttle.

Their blood went ice cold when one, then twenty, then fifty red lightsabers ignited in the darkness.

"Rhett."

"Yes, Master."

"Run."

Rhett stared at his Master in incomprehensible shock. "But… isn't running away giving into fear?"

"My Padawan, the Force will tell you when it is time to fight or run. Right now, it's telling us to run." He flashed a smile, one of those smiles that was almost fatherly in its brightness. "Shall we?"

Rhett had little choice. He took off after Kalm, who was opening a secret door that would lead to the hanger bay of the Temple, where salvation awaited…

* * *

Planetoid 4010-1101

Corporate Sector, 2 BBY

* * *

"Viia, I hope your right about this one, otherwise we've got slugs to deal with."

"Don't worry, Grieg," Viia Montala told her superior. "I've checked this one out in the Headhunter; from the looks of it, it dates back to roughly the Cold War era of the Republic's history, so there's got to be something interesting in it."

Grieg Salborra stroked his bearded chin in thought. "Hmm… Even if we do find something, what if it's illegal by Imperial standards? We'll have a hard time shaking them off our backs."

"Pardon me, Captain, but when have you ever cared about legality?" Viia asked playfully. "We're smugglers for crying out loud; the Empire is complete bantha fodder to us."

Viia smiled at her wittiness. She was Mirialan, a species of Near-Humans that dwelled on the cold planet of Mirial. Circumstances she didn't like to talk about led her to joining the crew of the saucer-shaped YT-1930 known as _The Red Recluse_, which included Grieg Salborra, a native of Raltiir. Unlike other Mirialans, she had no markings or tattoos on her face that were common amongst her people; she wouldn't say why to anyone.

Grieg was the polar opposite of Viia in so many ways. While Viia was small and lithe, the Raltiiri captain was tall and buff, sporting a full red beard and mustache along with a full head of red hair. A diagonal scar ran across his left eye, a reminder of a run-in with a fierce nashtah lizard.

"I hope you're right, kid. Creesk, how are we doing on fuel?"

At the engineer's console was a small, bird-like Mrlssi by the name of Creesk Krishee. He looked up and nodded at the captain, his multicolored plumage bobbing atop his head like some crazy hat. "We should be good for the next few hours. But after this run, I highly recommend that we return to Bonadan."

Grieg's ears always hurt after listening to Creesk's high-pitched voice. But he wasn't going to get a better engineer anywhere else, so he kept the bird-man around.

Sitting in the back chair, a hulking furry creature nodded in agreement. This was a Yuzzem named Rha'kl, Grieg's first mate. Much like a Wookiee, Yuzzems were strong and quick to anger, but were as loyal as any Wookiee could be once they owed a life debt.

"Alright, Viia… you're up."

Smiling even brighter, Viia dashed down the corridor leading to the main hull, where a Z-95 Headhunter was docked on top. She shimmied up through the turret, where normally a laser emplacement would be, and came up in the Z-95's cockpit. Putting on a flight helmet for protection, she detached the craft from the _Recluse_ and took off towards her destination.

It was a mere couple of moments before Viia made it to a large asteroid of about three hundred kilometers, floating in the middle of the vacuum with no evidence of an origin asteroid belt. There was a small portal on the side, its plasma shield revealing that which otherwise was hidden.

Viia steadied the Headhunter into a docking speed, then landed within the man-made docking bay. Hopping out, she surveyed the disarray before walking up to the blast door that led to the interior.

One of the other reasons Grieg kept Viia around was her so-called "knack" for avoiding danger. This came in a slight premonition that warned her of any threats around her, helping her crew avoid many a sticky situation.

Her knack told her that something was not right beyond this door. Drawing her blaster, a DL-18 pistol, she crept up to the mechanism and pressed it, opening the door.

As soon as she did, a stream of green blaster bolts shot out, barely missing the Headhunter. She rounded the corner and pulled the trigger twice, firing three red bolts. One collided with a green one, exploding harmlessly, while the other two found their mark in the shooter. There was another explosion, then a clattering of metal onto the durasteel floor.

Still holding her blaster, Viia emerged from the corner to find that what she shot at was virtually an antique. It was a droid, a security model made by the long-defunct Duwani Mechanical Products. Instead of hands, the droid had two blaster rifles for arms.

"So that settles it," Viia murmured to herself. "The age _is_ the Cold War."

She started walking down the hallway that she found herself in, blaster at the ready in case any more homicidal clankers decided to show up. About ten meters in she found another door, one that was a little better preserved than the first.

She pressed the button to open it. What she found inside practically knocked the wind out of her.

In the middle of the room there was a human-sized slab of carbonite. As its size would suggest, there was a young human male encased in the slab, a look of distress upon his face.

_Poor guy,_ Viia thought. She looked at the monitors, which surprisingly were still completely functional. They showed signs of being repaired, which was impossible unless—

She whirled around to bring her blaster on another droid, this time of the utility model from Duwani. Sighing, she started to put her blaster away before realizing that this saucer-headed droid, the T3, could be packing weapons.

The droid began whistling. Who are you? was what Viia understood.

"Just passing through, little guy." _This thing's not going to kill me_. "Do you know what this place is?"

Did you dismantle the GTA-4 outside?

"Um… yes, but only because it shot at me."

The droid paused. Are you a friend of the Republic?

Viia sighed again. "The Republic is dead. All that's left is the Empire."

The droid let loose a series of loud warbles before asking, And you work for the Empire?

"Not at all! I hate the Empire!" Pulling herself back from her anger, she continued, "My name is Viia Montala; I'm an engineer aboard _The Red Recluse_. A smuggler, for lack of a better term."

There was a pause as the T3 unit processed this. Then it whistled, I am T3-C9, property of Rhett Ordan, Jedi Knight."

Viia's heart skipped a beat. "Is that the guy in the carbonite?"

Another pause as T3-C9 wheeled its head around to look at the encased human. Then it turned to Viia and simply said, Yes.

She felt like she was having a completely mental breakdown. A Jedi Knight? _Alive?_ If the Empire didn't have such an anti-Jedi policy, this was a chance to peer through an age lost to history!

The crew of _The Red Recluse_ would be rich!

"Can you wake him up?"

Yet another pause. Processing… checking internal hard drive… Time passed since original incarceration: Three-thousand six-hundred and fifty-two years. The droid's single eye flashed between red and blue as it processed the passage. Yes, I think it's time to wake him up.

It wheeled up to the computers and stuck one of its adapters into a small slot. T3-C9 spun this adapter until it heard a _click_, then watched alongside Viia as the carbonite defrosted, slowly releasing Rhett Ordan.

Now that Viia could get a better look at him, she figured that he was around her age… plus three thousand six hundred and fifty-two years.

This was going to be a great day.

The first thing that came back to Rhett was touch. The pain of being defrosted was horrible.

The second thing to come back was taste; there was still blood in his mouth.

The third was smell. His first thoughts were of a sterilized med-center.

Fourth was hearing; he heard a spot of droidspeak with a woman's voice responding.

Finally, the sense he feared would never return did. He could now see that he was no longer inside Master Kalm's cruiser.

"Where am I?" He asked the Mirialan girl before collapsing onto the floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE**

**CHAPTER TWO: RISE OF HORROR**

* * *

Coruscant, 3653 BBY

Jedi Temple Hangar Bay

* * *

"We're being followed," Master Kalm stated as he and his Padawan reached the hangar. "Get the ship ready, Rhett, while I hold them off."

"But what if they're with us?"

"They're not. Go."

Reluctantly, Rhett waved his hand to open Kalm's ship, a _Defender-_class light corvette. Custom-built by the Rendili Vehicle Corporation for the Order, it provided a mode of transportation for individual Jedi, along with meditation spaces for long trips.

Something told Rhett that neither he nor Kalm would be meditating anytime soon, though. There was a huge arc of lightning from the opposite site of the hangar door, almost all of which Kalm caught on his lightsaber. The caster of this lightning attack strode in soon after, a blue-skinned Chiss wearing what looked like a cross between Sith and Mandalorian armor sans the helmet. The Chiss' red eyes pierced into Rhett's soul, even though by this time he was in the cockpit of the corvette.

"So… that is the Jedi that the Emperor spoke of. In the name of the Empire, I demand that you hand him over!"

Kalm pointed his lightsaber at the Sith Lord, saying "You want him? You will have to go through me!"

The Sith Lord sighed. "Very well." Drawing a long-handled lightsaber – the hilt being triple the length of Kalm's own – he ignited the red blade and charged.

Acting on instinct, Rhett pulled the trigger to the corvette left laser cannon, sending a red bolt streaking into the Sith. Upon impact, the Sith was flung backwards, a trail of smoke following him out of the hanger.

Kalm stood there for a few moments, then turned to the corvette to shoot a questioning glance at his Padawan.

"I panicked!" Rhett shouted through the transparasteel window.

Shaking his head, Kalm trotted to the waiting ramp of the corvette, taking a seat next to Rhett. "What was that about giving into fear, Rhett?"

Rhett hung his head low. "I'm sorry, Master."

Now Kalm let out a long sigh. "I guess drastic measures must be taken in times of war."

"What're we going to do now?"

"We're going to Alderaan. We must tell the Republic of what happened here."

Rhett nodded. "Okay, Master."

Kalm turned to his Padawan and smiled. "How about you drive, Rhett?"

* * *

Dromund Kaas, 2 BBY

Ruins of the Imperial Citadel

* * *

At one time, Dromund Kaas was the thriving capital of the Sith Empire, home to legions of Sith and their military. Nowadays, however, it was home only to marshy swamps and misery.

Thus, it baffled Imperial Inquisitor Argon Ju why the Empire of his era would have any interest in the place. The Sith were ancient history, a mere memory of the dark side's immense power; why would the Emperor send him and his stormtroopers there?

One of his troopers came up to him and saluted. "Sir, we've found several chambers containing the statues that we came for. Shall we proceed?"

Argon sighed. The statues. Of course. "Yes, let us get this over with."

He followed the trooper down the stone hallway of the ruins, noting Sith inscriptions on the vine-covered walls. Proceeding through the first chamber, he and the trooper found the first of the strangely life-like statues, which two more troopers were examining with handheld scanners.

This one was of a Rodian in Sith robes, apparently a mere apprentice. Argon immediately wondered to himself why the great and mighty Sith Empire would venerate a lowly disciple like this.

In the next room, there was a statue of female Twi'lek wearing similar clothing, but only on the lower half of her body. She wore a simple halter top where she was otherwise bare; she would've been beautiful in Argon's eyes if it weren't for the blasted head-tails.

Next one over was a muscle-bound Cather male, again in Sith robes. The realism of each statue was starting to unnerve Argon, as if they could suddenly come alive at any moment.

The final room had a statue quite unlike the others. It was hard to identify the species, but it seemed to represent a humanoid. It was covered head to toe in what looked like a cross between a life-support suit and Mandalorian armor, with a T-shaped visor and an integrated breath mask in the helmet. Gripped in its left hand was a long-handled lightsaber, again with incredible realism.

It was at this point that the little voice in Argon's head was screaming. These statues… were they actually statues?

As if to answer his question, the statue in front of him started to crack. A sort of purplish mist seethed from the cracks, preceding the shattering of the statue – no, the _shell_ – and releasing its occupant. Three more explosions sounded from behind him, and he realized that he had somehow awakened the Sith that were resting here.

The breathing of the armored Sith reminded Argon of Lord Vader in many ways. Like Vader, this being seemed to be suffering from terrible injuries and only the suit kept him alive.

The stormtrooper beside Argo raised his blaster to attack, but the Sith merely waved his hand and sent him spiraling into the wall. Motioning his hand down, he brought one of the stone blocks that made up the ceiling down upon the hapless soldier, crushing him completely.

Then he ignited his lightsaber and stepped towards Argon. In his panic, the Inquisitor fumbled for his blaster, but was quickly met with a blade to the gut. His last sight was of the Sith's helmet, the eyes from behind the T-visor glaring angrily at him. A single, simple thought entered his head, forced upon him by the Sith.

_I am Darth Phrike._


	3. Chapter 3

**STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE**

**CHAPTER THREE: RUINS OF INDUSTRY**

* * *

In hyperspace, 3653 BBY

* * *

Rhett had never liked being in hyperspace, for the most part. In the deep darkness of space, he could only feel the faintest of Force signatures, and trying to focus on one always ended up in him having a serious migraine. He sat back in his chair, trying to drown out the voices of countless beings as they passed planet after planet.

Kalm, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at home in the captain's seat. He turned to his Padawan and gave him a small smile. "Try to look alive there, Rhett; we're almost to Alderaan."

Rhett turned away. "I'm sorry, Master. I'm just a little ill, that's all."

The older Jedi laughed. "Ah, I forgot, you get motion sickness. Try to relax, then."

"It's not motion sickness, Master." Now he turned to face his Master. "It's the Force. I can feel it all around me… and to be completely honest, it's overwhelming me."

Kalm sighed. "So that's it…"

"How do you do it, Master? How can you be out here with no ills while I get sick as an akk dog?"

Cracking another smile, Kalm answered, "Simple: I do not try to block the Force out. A true Jedi lets the Force flow through him, not fight him. Just open your mind to its embrace, and your ills shall be cured."

Rhett frowned. "But wouldn't that be against the Code?"

The smile grew wider. "Do explain."

"I mean… what you are suggesting is giving in to emotion."

"I never said anything about emotion. One can open himself up to the Force without giving in to his passions. Remember: There is no emotion, only peace."

Noting his Padawan's confused expression, he added, "I've also found a spot of meditation helpful for gaining that peace. Maybe you should try it."

Rhett slumped in his chair. "I knew that was going to come up sooner or later."

* * *

Along the Hydian Way _en route_ to Bonadan, 2 BBY

* * *

_There is no emotion, there is peace…_

Rhett tried to keep that in mind as he attempted to check the tempest of emotions swirling through his heart. Wise as he was, Master Kalm had most likely not experienced such a shock to the system.

He was right about one thing, though: meditation _did_ help to quell the voices of the galaxy in his head. He sat, cross-legged, in the cargo bay of the _Recluse_, the thin atmosphere provided by the minimal life-support systems sharpening his focus.

Amongst the voices, he heard one that was extremely close. In fact, that voice was right at the door of the bay.

It was Viia. "Sorry, Master Ordan… but I figured you'd want some food. Then again, you _are_ a Jedi, so…"

Rhett looked up from his meditation and smiled. "Well… I haven't eaten in nearly four thousand years, so you'd be right to assume that."

"Uh, right, I knew that." She placed the tray of prepackaged food at his feet, then sat down on the cold floor of the bay. "By the Core, how do you _breathe _in here? It's like trying to live on a karking asteroid!"

She noticed the sideways glance that the Padawan was giving her, then said, "Sorry, you probably have never heard anyone talk like that."

"Oh, I have. Just not someone of your age and appearance. Where'd you learn your language, from a Aqualish?"

"Ha, ha, very funny. Now answer the question."

Rhett sighed. "I was once taught by a very wise man that meditating in such conditions helps focus one's mind. I'll vouch for his wisdom from experience."

"Guess it's only something a Jedi would understand."

Now he laughed. "Yes, we Jedi are a strange lot. I wonder what sort of stories are told about us nowadays."

Now Rhett was getting a strange look from Viia. "I'm a little surprised by you, Rhett."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean… I figured you'd be a lot more freaked out about being flung across time to an age where the Jedi are extinct…"

He smiled again. "Perhaps the Force guided me to this era to change that."

This got a sigh from the Mirialan girl. "Yeah, the Force… It seems to get around on this ship."

Rhett would've asked her what she meant, but at that moment the intercom buzzed. "Attention, crew and passengers. We are now approaching Bonadan Spaceport Southwest II. Those of you not used to Bonadan ought to wear a breath mask. The rest know the drill."

"Well, looks like we're here. Bonadan was a new society at your time, right? Bet it'll shock you to see how much it's changed."

Rhett frowned. "If what I remember of its people is still true, then I already know the direction of the change."

* * *

Indeed, Bonadan had changed from its colonization period four thousand years ago, and not necessarily for the best. As a result of the mass weapon and armor trafficking done in its early days, the natives of Bonadan had begun a strip-mining process that eventually left the world a barren husk of a planet. The only signs of life on an otherwise lifeless planet were the ten spaceports on the surface, along with the occasional six-legged tortoise on the outskirts. Pollution came with this focus on industry, leaving the world looking like it had a sheen of dust along the buildings.

That pollution came to represent the corruption of the ruling Imperials, who allowed smugglers to dock as long as they left their weapons on their ships.

"Alright, Viia," Grieg was saying. "I know it pains you to do it, but you've got to leave the blaster here. You know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. So we going to sell off the cargo or what?"

"We probably should at the earliest opportunity," Creesk piped in. "Otherwise we run the risk of being detected by the Imperials."

"Good thing I've got a buyer lined up, huh? I'll meet you at the cantina later. Rha'kl, make sure you watch Viia at all times. Creesk, go with them. I'll go meet the buyer."

"Pardon me, Captain," Rhett interjected, "but what would you have me do while this is all happening?"

"Normally I'd tell you to stay with the ship, but a kid with your talents won't be wasted by me. You go with the others."

"Very well. Haven't been in a cantina before, to be honest."

"Better get used to it."

* * *

The four of them settled into the cantina that Grieg had told them to go, and if it was any indicator to Rhett on how cantinas were, he never wanted to set foot in another one ever again. Even by cantina standards, the place was a dive; trash laid strewn across the floors, along with several of the lum-addled patrons. Two big guys, a human and a Rodian, were eyeing the newcomers with slightly less drunken gazes, namely the female of the group, Viia.

Rha'kl growled at the two, who only sniggered at him. The Rodian said something in Rodese, which got the human hooting with laughter.

"Your captain sure knows his cantinas," Rhett observed. "Couldn't have picked a better place myself."

"Oh, shut up." Viia turned to the bar and ordered a three glasses of lum.

"You're not going to drink all three, are you?"

"No… One is for me, one for Rha'kl…" The drinks came, and Viia grabbed one and offered it to him. "And one for you."

"Thanks, but no thanks. If you don't mind, I'll be watching from the corner, pretending I don't exist."

Viia would've laughed if she didn't think the Jedi had his reasons. "Sorry, Rhett."

"No worries. I'll get used to this eventually."

Turning back to her glass, Viia sensed Rha'kl lumber away with his drink. Then, she got the slightly uncomfortable feeling of two beings standing very close to her.

"Hey, babe," the drunken human said. "You lookin' to get a room? I've got one portside that we can use."

"Sorry, buster, I'm taken." She tried to ignore the guy, but he suddenly crept right up to her ear and whispered, "Benji don't take no for an answer, babe. How 'bout you and I go and—Hey! Who threw that?"

He whirled around at his Rodian buddy's finger-pointing, which indicated a slightly drunk Chadra-Fan minding his own business. "Hey, bat-boy! You've got a problem with me?"

The little alien's ears pricked up, and he quickly noticed that one of his mugs was missing. It had somehow, at least to him, flung itself across the cantina to hit Benji in the back of the head.

Before Benji could react, however, another mug flew out from behind the bar, nailing him square on his temple. From the ground came another, which hit the Rodian in the mouth. Then, again without any warning, the rags that Benji and the Rodian were standing on came out from under them, causing them to slip and bang their head against the edge of the bar.

Bruised and bloodied, the two hooligans fell to the ground, unconscious. Meanwhile, Rhett withdrew his hand into his pocket and whistled a small tune as his walked up to the bar and took a seat next to Viia.

"You're welcome," was all he had to say.


	4. Chapter 4

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER 4: REVIVAL OF THE SITH

* * *

Unknown Location, 3651 BBY

* * *

When one is strong enough in the dark side of the Force, they attain certain… qualities. Some even learn to heal the sick and possibly cheat death.

The infinite power of the dark side ran through the thoughts of the young human woman who now strode down the halls of a stark Imperial lab. The woman, while seeming normal for a Sith, was actually the vessel for an evil that was by far the greatest the galaxy had ever known.

Walking into one of the sliding doors, the woman found what the evil presence was looking for. Strapped to a medical cot there was another Sith- a Chiss male, though one could barely tell from the massive burns coating his body. A medical droid checked a few monitors at the side of the cot before noticing the woman. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but the patient is not-"

"_Silence, droid,_" the woman spoke, her voice not belonging to her. "_Is he conscious?_"

The medic took a moment to calculate the change in circumstances. Then is said, "Yes, Your Majesty. I apologize."

Smirking, the woman who held the consciousness of the Sith Emperor walked up to the Chiss, who turned his head slightly to meet her gaze. "Your… Majesty...?"

"_None other. I hear that you have suffered… critical damage… during the sacking of the Jedi Temple."_

"Yes… It was the Jedi they called Kalm… and his _apprentice…_"

"_Do you wish vengeance against the Jedi who did this to you?"_ The Emperor's vessel grinned. "_Because I can grant to you a second chance to do so."_

"It would be an… honor to receive this gift…"

"_Good." _The Emperor turned his vessel to the droid. "_Prepare this Sith for surgery, immediately. He will need much to survive the night._"

"Yes, Your Majesty. I will begin immediately."

He allowed the vessel to smirk again. "_Good… I see this one accomplishing much in the future. This… Phrike."_

* * *

Dromund Kaas, 2 BBY

* * *

"Lord Phrike, how fare you? I heard a commotion as I awoke."

Phrike turned to the Cathar that entered the room, along with his other two apprentices. "I am quite alright, Moros."

Why have we awakened, Master? the Rodian asked, the Force allowing the others to comprehend him. Is it time for the Empire to attain victory?

Looking around at the desolation of their stasis chambers, Phrike shook his head. "It would seem we have out-lasted the Empire by thousands of years, Oizys. However…"

"My lord…?" the Twi'lek spoke up.

"It seems a new empire has sprung from the ashes of our enemies… These men – they dress similarly to ours." He nudged the dead body of Argon with his foot. "I do believe that the Republic… has died."

"Finally… those fools deserved the end they received."

"Quite so, Moros. Oizys, Nyx, scout the perimeter of the city: if any Sith survive here, we must know."

"Yes, Master," the two said in unison. Then, Oizys and Nyx – the Twi'lek - left Phrike's chamber, leaving him and Moros alone.

"My lord, something troubles you."

Phrike turned to him again. "Nothing escapes your notice, does it my friend?" Turning away to face the remnants of his shell, he continued, "Yes… I sense the presence of another who has awoken… but not of the Sith. Of the _Jedi_."

"Impossible; if the Sith rule the galaxy, then the Jedi should be all but extinct."

"That may be so, but… how time has passed since our being sealed?"

Moros frowned. "Good question, my lord. Perhaps the man you killed has a clue to our era of rebirth."

Sighing, Phrike walked back over to Argon's body and lifted up his arm, checking the chronometer on his wrist. Pressing a button to check the star-year, he dropped it suddenly as he read it.

"So it is true… Thousands of years _have_ passed… But what could be the purpose of sealing us away for so long?"

At this moment, Nyx returned. "My lord, I have found something that might interest you. A Fury has been left in the starport. Its workings are functional, but Oizys will need to do some repairs before we can leave."

Phrike took a moment to ponder this before answering. _The Emperor prepared for this…_ "Thank you, Nyx. Let Moros know as soon as the ship is ready."

"Where will you be, my lord?"

He turned away. "I need to meditate. I feel that we are not alone in our awakening."


	5. Chapter 5

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER FIVE: CRUCIBLE OF HATRED

* * *

En route to Alderaan, 3653 BBY

* * *

The holonews had been a depressing piece of theater in the past twenty-eight years. Not a day went by without either Rhett or Kalm seeing a report about Sith brutality or Republic valiancy. Although they both wanted to believe that the Republic was winning, Kalm always had a feeling that their ancient enemies would somehow edge in their victory.

And now they had. Coruscant was in the hands of the Sith, and the Republic scarcely knew about it.

"We're coming in range of Alderaan," Rhett reported to his Master. "Should we open a comm channel?"

"Not until we know the delegates are safe." Kalm, sitting in the captain's chair once again, seemed to age before his Padawan's eyes with the weight of the events transpiring around them. "There is one we could contact that may be able to alert them, however."

Punching a few buttons on the dashboard, he brought up an image of a weathered-looking Togruta female wearing Jedi's robes. "This had better be good, Kalm."

"Seven years and _that's _what you have to say? I'm shocked, my friend."

Rhett recognized the Togruta as Master Talia Deenaru, one of the Masters involved in the current war effort. Last he had heard, Talia was orbiting Rhen Var with the Sixth Fleet, tasked with security of the world. As a youngling, he had heard tales of her deeds as a skilled lightsaber combatant, especially one where she took on seven Sith at once… and _won_.

If only she had been at Coruscant.

"I'm sorry, Kalm, but my duty prevents me from taking social calls. So I'm assuming that you have news."

Kalm's expression became grim. "I'm afraid so. Coruscant has fallen; the peace talks were a deception."

Talia was silent for what seemed like an eternity. Then she sighed, saying, "Well, I suppose the Council was right. The Sith can't be trusted with their word."

"You do realize how this changes the balance of power, correct?"

"I do. As soon as this reaches Master Zym, we can expect a full effort to retake the capital. But I don't see that happening for a good few weeks now."

"Why's that?" Rhett asked.

"The Republic is in tatters, Padawan; her fleet and economy, completely ruined. While we've had our victories, the Sith… well, they know no bounds. Anything is fair game to them in war." She turned back to Kalm. "As it is right now, I cannot do anything worthwhile other than alert the Council. In the meantime, you must go and warn the delegates on Alderaan." She raised a brow at Kalm. "I _assume_ that is where you are going?"

"Yes, it is. Thank you, and may the Force be with you." Cutting off the transmission, Kalm sat back in his chair. "Ah, she has changed so much…"

"You knew her?" Rhett asked. It was a dumb question, but one that he thought was worth asking.

The response slightly perturbed him, for Kalm smiled contently. "Yes… yes I did."

"Um, Master… I don't mean to patronize, but you know what the Code says about… Never mind. Please mind the hyperspace anomalies; you know what those do to starships."

* * *

Bonadan, 2 BBY

* * *

"Rhett, are you _trying_ to get us killed?" Viia asked him.

"What? Those men were threatening you. You expected me to just stand by and let them harm you?"

"Oh for the love of… Rha'kl, don't you agree that that was a dumb move?"

Rha'kl looked at them both, then grunted out a question in his language.

"On _his_ part, not mine!"

It was about that time that Grieg walked into the cantina. "Alright, ladies and gentlemen, the deal's- What the blazes…? What happened here?"

"The bar didn't like those guys," the Chadra-Fan from earlier squeaked. "So it beat them up."

"The bar…? Son of a bantha… Kid, we have to talk." This was directed at Rhett, who decided it was in his best interests to play dumb.

It didn't work.

* * *

"Listen, kid, I'm not sure if this was the same in your time… but it's not safe to use your _abilities_ here," Grieg told Rhett outside of the bar. They had retreated to a street corner where not too many people came through, thus allowing for some privacy.

"As long as they didn't see me using the Force, it shouldn't be dangerous."

"That's not what I'm talking about! Back in old days, when the Empire was just getting settled in, there were people called Inquisitors who hunted down the last of the Jedi; some Jedi even joined their ranks, from what I've heard. But even though the Jedi aren't around anymore as an organization, that doesn't mean the Inquisitorus doesn't occasionally find a stray womp rat."

"So… these Inquisitors probably can sense ripples in the Force." Rhett looked down, contemplating. Then, looking up, he said, "Then I'm afraid I've put myself in danger. Thank you for all of your help, but I think it's best that we part ways."

"Are you _insane?_" Viia asked, seeming panicked. "You're nearly four-thousand years old and you want to travel _alone_? You don't even have a weapon!"

"I'll build one, then. The lightsaber is the traditional weapon of the Jedi, and it always will be."

"Good luck finding the materials for one, kid. After the first Empire Day, the Emperor banned all use, sale, and manufacture of lightsabers. You're better off with a blaster, if you ask me."

"Such a crude weapon has no place in the hands of a Jedi. I will go to Ilum, where I will find a crystal. Then I will-"

"Be quiet before the whole galaxy hears you!" Grieg stopped to catch his breath, then said, "Since you're so determined… one of my shipments was a batch of crystals for a crime lord here on Bonadan. When we found you, I figured that I'd keep one of them, just in case you proved this difficult. Here it is."

Hesitating for a moment, Grieg pulled as small blue crystal, just the right size to be fitted into a hilt.

Allowing Grieg to place the crystal in his hand, Rhett felt the skin on his palm cool as the crystal's smooth surface touched it. Although it was faint, he could sense the Force radiating off of it.

"I'm guessing you don't know how rare this is."

Though Rhett could sense the older man's curiosity peaking, Grieg kept up a poker face. "Enlighten me."

"This is a pontite crystal, one of the strongest the Jedi have ever had. They're incredibly hard to find, but the blades they produce are very strong."

"Well, you should be glad that I didn't sell the bugger, then!"

"I still need some parts, though."

"I think I've got some contacts that can help with that. Let me get in touch with them, see what we can do."

Rhett smiled. "I cannot thank you enough, Captain."

"Don't thank me until you've got a fully-functional blade in your hands. Now, I'll be at the starport, getting what you need. All of you, go back to the ship and wait for me to come back."

"Roger that. C'mon, Rha'kl, Creesk, let's get out of here." Viia turned back to smile at Rhett, and he could sense a twinge of affection from her, despite her earlier disposition.

_It's against the Code, Rhett_, he told himself. _Even though the Order is dead, you still have to follow the Code. Don't get distracted_.

Even though his mind was arguing against it, he found himself following Viia back to the _Red Recluse._

* * *

Meanwhile, at the opposite end of the planet, an Imperial shuttle landed in a designated spot for Imperial off-worlders. The doors opened, allowing a gaunt old man in Inquisitor's robes to disembark and meet the port official in the docking bay.

"Inquisitor Selobe! Good to have you back. How can we assist you today?"

Selobe turned to face the official, his face taut. "I am on an assignment from the Emperor to track down a fugitive. Any idea where he might be hiding?"

"Um… what _sort_ of fugitive, sir?"

"A dangerous one, possibly of the Jedi. Any strange occurrences of late that might… _reveal_ his whereabouts?"

"Well… there was a report by Southwest II. They described it as a _poltergeist_ attack… not like we believe such things, do we Inquisi-"

Selobe had not stayed; he was already on a speeder to Southwest II, ignoring the official entirely.


	6. Chapter 6

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER SIX: THE _GALVANIZER_

* * *

Unknown Location, 3651 BBY

* * *

"His recovery is remarkable, Your Majesty," the medical droid told the Sith pureblood that served as the Emperor's vessel this day.

"_It is to be expected of a being strong in the dark side of the Force,_" the Emperor replied. "_Now, leave us._"

Nodding, the droid left the room, leaving the Emperor alone with the prone Phrike and a couple of droids tweaking his cybernetics. "_How is life for you now, my child?"_

"Agonizing…" Phrike turned to face the Emperor's vessel, his breath mask concealing his expression. "But suffering only gives me strength."

"_Good… Very good. Now, when you have recovered some more, I will begin your training."_

"Your Majesty… with all due respect, I am a fully-trained Lord of the Sith. While your tutelage is graciously accepted, I feel that I have learned all that I can."

The vessel smiled to mirror its master's expression. "_And yet, there is so much you do not know…_"

* * *

Hyperspace, 2 BBY

* * *

_The Emperor was right,_ Phrike reflected as he meditated in the captain's seat of his newly-acquired ship. The millennia-old craft groaned under the pressure of hyperspace, but held fast for its passengers' sake. Beside him, Nyx operated the navicomputer and basically piloted the ship, while Moros and Oizys watched carefully.

_They do not trust her, even after all these years,_ Phrike thought, chuckling quietly. There had been rumors amongst the Sith Lords of his own time that Phrike had had an affair with the quite beautiful Lethan Twi'lek while campaigning on the planet Cestea. While he did not confirm nor deny these rumors, he always knew the truth of Nyx's own feelings.

Passion, while volatile, was a potent weapon when controlled. And Lady Nyx had plenty of that.

A ripple in the Force brought Phrike back from his musings. "What has happened?"

"My lord, we have encountered a large mass shadow in our way; it seems to be a capital ship of some kind."

He gazed out the transparisteel windows of the ship as it dropped out of hyperspace, noting the gray triangular craft towing them in with its tractor beams.

"All of you, remember your training. I sense that this vessel will be important in our conquests."

It looks like a Star Destroyer, Oizys noted.

"If it is anything like Vaiken's designs, we will have a hard time capturing it in realspace."

"Which is why we are not trying to break free," Phrike said coolly, to the surprise of his two male apprentices. "I have a plan that will cause minimum bloodshed, but I will require time to perform the task needed."

"What would you have us do, my lord?" Nyx asked, batting an eyelash at him.

_Old habits die hard._ "Distract the boarders. I will be in the meditation sphere."

What means are we allowed?

Phrike turned to face Oizys; his mask concealed his expression, but he seemed to be grinning. "Any."

* * *

"Alright, get these aliens to the bridge," Brigadier-Captain Broker of the Star Destoryer _Galvanizer_ told his stormtroopers. After boarding the strange, TIE-fighter looking craft, they had rounded up a rogue's gallery of aliens dressed in strange robes.

"That will not be necessary," the Cathar said, declining the cuffs shown to him by an ensign. "I will not resist."

"You can never be too sure," the ensign spat before clamping them onto the cat's wrists.

"Sir, we found this… thing hiding below decks," a stormtrooper captain told Broker, with two others hoisting a strangely calm being to him. The being's armor reminded Broker very much of Darth Vader – which wasn't necessarily a good thing – but had a touch of Mandalorian to it.

The Twi'lek shot a glare at the being, but it – he? – merely shrugged. The being was quiet all the way to the bridge, where Broker showed them to his commanding officer. "Sir, these were the beings we found in the ship."

The captain, a stiff and angular man with a pointy mustache by the name of Galba, huffed. "Please; I could smell the Rodian before he even got here. Must be mating season for their kind."

The Rodian muttered to itself, with Broker guessing that they weren't kind words.

Galba approached the armored being, standing at eye level with him. "Now… who are you, and what brings you to Imperial Space?"

The being paused. Then he said, "Imperial? You people are not worthy of the term. In my time, the Empire was built on power and strength, not this avarice I see now."

"In… _your_ time?" Galba looked horrified. "Just… _what_ are you?"

About that time, a sickly violet aura encircled the being, causing both Galba and Broker to feel incredibly uncomfortable.

"After this… I am your lord and Master, Darth Phrike."

And the crew of the _Galvanizer _remembered no more.

* * *

Imperial Center, 2 BBY

* * *

"That's odd… Sir! Come have a look at this…"

A fleet captain came to the tech's call, noticing that a detachment of the Seventh Sword fleet had vanished from the ship manifest.

"What happened, soldier?"

"I'm not sure, sir. One moment they're there, the next they disappear; I can't make heads or tails of it!"

"Hmm… I will submit a report to the Moff in that sector, have him search for it. After that, it's out of our hands…"

* * *

The _Galvanizer, _2 BBY

* * *

"A fine ship you have here, Captain," Phrike told Galba as the captain gave him a tour of the _Galvanizer._

"Thank you, my lord," Galba replied, his eyes looking dead and soulless. "We were supposed to carry a shipment of experimental weapons to Astrares, but they are yours now."

Phrike laughed. "Very good… we'll put those to use right away."

The Emperor was right all those years ago. There was so much that he did not know.


	7. Chapter 7

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER SEVEN: TRIAL BY COMBAT

* * *

Hyperspace Lane 110-504, 3651 BBY

* * *

Jedi were not allowed to feel emotions; the Code made that perfectly clear. Yet Kalm could not shake the sense of guilt that hung over him as he faced the hologram of a wizened Cerean male wearing Jedi robes. In the passenger quarters below, Rhett slept soundly, unaware of his Master's clandestine communication.

"So you are certain this is the path he must take?"

The Cerean, who went by the name of Bo-Ha-Katen, nodded. "I have seen it through the Force. His destiny does not lie within this era."

Kalm sighed. "I will not question your authority on the temporal nature of the Unifying Force, but I must object to your visions. If they speak the truth, Rhett will have to travel hundreds, perhaps thousands of years to realize them!"

"If that is what it takes. We have placed a containment asteroid at these coordinates." A series of numbers flashed on the dashboard in front of Kalm, indicating his destination. "We will be waiting for you."

"I… I understand. We will be on our way." Cutting off the transmission, he allowed himself to slump into the captain's chair. _What have I gotten us into?_

* * *

Bonadan Spaceport II, 2 BBY

* * *

"Alright, kid, I've got the parts for you," Grieg called out as he walked with a small box into the _Recluse's _cargo bay, where Rhett sat meditating.

Looking up to face him, Rhett smiled. "Thank you, captain. I will need a period of silence while I construct this. Will you be able to provide it?"

"I'll see what I can do to keep it down upstairs. Just do what you need to, and we'll be out of here." With that, Grieg put the box of parts on the ground and walked out, sealing the door behind him.

Sighing, Rhett opened up the box and started to take out the parts one by one, laying them in an orderly fashion on the floor. Seeing that the parts were fairly basic for lightsaber material, he focused on making the bottom of the hilt first. The parts floated in the air as the Force guided them to their destination; soon, Rhett had a rounded starting point to a saber hilt.

Refocusing, Rhett began crafting the crystal chamber, using more parts than for the base. After he had done that, he very carefully put the small pontite crystal in the socket then clicked the rest of the hilt into place.

He stood up and took the saber into his right hand, then pressed the activation knob with his thumb. With a quick _snap-hiss_, the blue blade sprang to life, illuminating the dark bay.

Satisfied with his results, Rhett deactivated the saber and clicked it onto a ring on his belt. He hid it in his coat as soon as he remembered what the Empire's view of Jedi were.

* * *

While Rhett was doing all this, Grieg was negotiating with a Toydarian dealer nearby to sell off some of the surplus cargo that he kept in a private storage bay off-world. He finished just as Inquisitor Selobe entered the spaceport with his stormtroopers.

He started to become concerned when the troopers singled out the _Red Recluse_ for searching, then became even more so when he remembered what the Inquisitors did for a living.

"Hey, hey, hold it! That's my ship!" he yelled at them as he closed the distance. "You need a warrant to search that!"

Selobe turned to face him with cold, dead eyes as he pulled out a small datapad. "Here is your warrant, captain. If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear."

"Uh… yeah, great, an Imperial Inquisitor's license… I suppose you're not local."

The Inquisitor's gaze grew colder. "If you insist on annoying me, I will have you arrested for obstruction of justice."

"Justice?" a voice called out from inside the ship. "What do you Imp scum know about _justice?_"

_Oh, not now, Viia_. "Don't think anything of her, Inquisitor, she's just a kid."

"Great, now you're calling me a kid, Grieg? I'm telling you; these people have no right to be running around like a pack of kath hounds, preying on any ship they please!" Viia had stormed out of the ship to face the stormtroopers, just as Selobe had lost his patience.

"Shoot her."

"_No!_" Grieg bellowed as he threw a punch at the nearest being, namely Selobe. The troopers were befuddled long enough for Viia to grab a backup blaster out of a hidden compartment in the ship's wall and start firing. The captain of the _Recluse _dodged a reactionary punch from Selobe before dashing for the ship, dodging blaster bolts the whole way.

Viia's parting shot caught a trooper in the face before Selobe Force-ripped the blaster out of her hands. Then he launched a barrage of lightning from his hands to subdue the two smugglers.

He stopped for a moment, then said, "Assaulting an Imperial Inquisitor is treason, and treason has only one punishment: _death."_

He readied another barrage, but at that point became aware of a third person beside Grieg and Viia. Standing calmly there was a young human male in his late teens with a basic-looking object in his right hand.

"So this is what the Empire stands for, hmm? Attacking random civilians because of their loudness? I have to say, that's hardly a way to run the galaxy."

"Sir, what should we do about – Urrk!" The stormtrooper that spoke up was quickly flung across the spaceport by an invisible force, landing in the Toydarian's wares. Those wares happened to include an illegal baby nashtah, which set to work devouring the trooper's windpipe.

"There's the Jedi we've been looking for! Open fire!"

* * *

_Short-tempered, aren't they?_ Rhett thought as he deflected the stormtroopers' bolts with his new lightsaber. Kalm had taught him two techniques before his carbonite jump through time; Shii-Cho, a training form that was very basic and thus easy to learn, and Ataru, an aggressive and acrobatic form that focused on fighting a single opponent.

With the stormtroopers, Rhett decided to start with the former, using wide, arcing swings to dismember and disable them. One slash caught a trooper in the shoulder, and due to the lack of protection his armor provided against a lightsaber it continued to his other shoulder, cutting his neck and head off.

As soon as the troopers were dealt with, Rhett moved on to Selobe, who was drawing his own red-bladed lightsaber. It was here that he decided to switch to Ataru form, allowing his instincts to determine where his swings went. Selobe had obviously been a Jedi before the Empire's rise, for his countered with a defensive form known as Makashi.

The duel progressed swiftly, with the two combatants blocking and parrying where they could. Rhett ducked out of the way of a wide arc, then dashed forward and caught Selobe in the midline, cutting deeply into the Inquisitor, but not all the way.

Selobe yowled in pain, then threw a wild lightning attack that Rhett dived out of the way of. He threw a invisible Force attack of his own, throwing Selobe away, then swiftly dashed up and resumed the fight.

The parrying continued, though it was becoming apparent that Selobe was tiring of the fight. Finally, Selobe let his guard down for a mere moment, allowing Rhett to make a quick horizontal swing that decapitated the Inquisitor.

Nodding in acknowledgement of his work, Rhett made a run for it as he realized that more stormtroopers were on the way. He barely managed to climb aboard the _Recluse _before it made a break for orbit, and from there, hyperspace.

He leaned against the wall to brace himself, panting from his effort. Viia found him and helped him to the lounge, where he laid down panting.

"That… was amazing. Where'd you learn to fight like that?"

He laughed. "I had a good teacher." Then, looking away, he said, "To be honest… that was the second Sith I've ever killed."


	8. Chapter 8

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER EIGHT: DOGFIGHT

* * *

**Author's Note: Sorry about my lack of updates lately; I've been focusing on my novel for the past few months and haven't had the time for writing on the site. Honestly, I've got a bit of ADD in me without actually **_**having **_**ADD. So basically I'm like, "Oh, a squirrel!" and I focus on the squirrel, or in this case, whatever project I've got going on. **

**I'm not going to promise to be more consistent with my updates; I think I've said that and not followed through enough times already. What I **_**am**_** going to say is that these stories on-site **_**will**_** get finished at some point; I just can't say when. Again, I apologize to all of you and hope that this update will make up for it.**

* * *

The Time Capsule, 3653 BBY

* * *

"Master, this doesn't not look like Alderaan."

Kalm sighed. "I know, Rhett. I've orders from the Council; we are to wait here for a team to question us about the attack."

It was a bald-faced lie; Bo-Ha-Katen had concocted it so that Rhett wouldn't get suspicious. But the guilt was building up in Kalm's soul, and finally he broke. "No… Rhett, there is another reason we are here."

"Hmm? Why is that?"

Slowly and carefully, Kalm explained Bo-Ha-Katen's vision and his plan for Rhett. "They do not wish for me to tell you this, but I feel it is an injustice to you to heed that wish."

"I see…" Rhett sighed. "So I guess this is where we part ways, Master."

"Rhett…? You agree with Katen?"

"I'm not saying I agree with Master Katen specifically… But I have had those visions as well. He's right in that sense."

He looked up at his master, his eyes placid and calm. "I am not afraid, Master. I will face this destiny head-on, no matter the consequences."

Kalm found himself close to tears despite the Jedi Code. "Then I have done my job. If you are truly prepared… then I will not stand in your way. Just know that… it may be many eons before you awaken again."

His Padawan sighed. "If there is one regret I may have… It's that I'll be leaving you behind, Master."

Now Kalm smiled. "Do not worry; even if I pass on into the light, I will always be watching over you."

To himself he thought, _You are the closest I will ever have to a son, my Padawan. Even if the Council disapproves, I will be joining you in this future of yours. Somehow…_

* * *

2 BBY

* * *

"Master!" Rhett shouted, rousing himself from slumber. He looked around, remembering that Kalm was likely long dead, and the age that he once was a part of had long since passed. He was living in a dark time now, a time where the Jedi were all but extinct – and the Sith had conquered the galaxy.

He got up from his cot and walked out of his quarters, hoping that a midnight snack would clear his head. Walking into the mess hall, he took note of the T3 unit that sat, inactive, in the corner. Like him, the little astromech was a relic, an artifact that had better use in a museum than a smuggler's pride and joy.

He came up and patted the droid's head, thinking how long it must have waited for him to wake up. Unlike most human beings, droids had no reason to be dishonest; in fact, the mechanical wonders could often be some of the most loyal companions an organic could have.

"Couldn't sleep?" A voice said from the entry of the mess hall. Rhett turned around to see Viia leaned against the doorframe, staring at him. It was around this time that Rhett also realized that he was wearing just his undergarments.

_Ah, blast it._ "Yes. And you?"

"No, just admiring the scenery. Those Jedi training exercises get results, huh?"

_Double-blast it._ "Um… never heard it put _that_ way before, but yes. Training can get intensive at times."

"Hmm… You're going to have to teach Grieg those exercises; he's starting to get a little wide around the waist."

"I will keep that in mind." Rhett smiled, then looked away and frowned. "It's just that… I been having these dreams. I think they're memories, actually, but I only see them when I'm asleep."

"And that makes them dreams."

He nodded. "It all leads up to me being put into stasis… But I can't remember exactly what happens next."

Viia frowned. "Never heard of carbonite erasing someone's short-term memory. I'll ask Creesk about it in the morning." She turned away for a moment, then asked, "Hey… About that whole Jedi Code thing… Does it say anything about when girls start staring at you?"

"Uh… my memory on that is a little foggy."

"Good."

* * *

The next morning, Rhett awoke to the sound of Grieg yelling at someone or some_thing_. Wandering into the cockpit to see that the subject of the captain's ire was the sensor board.

"How long has that karking blastboat been following us?" Grieg bellowed.

Rha'kl, who was also in the cockpit, merely shrugged and said something in the Yuzzem language.

"Why the hell didn't you tell me it was there, then? If it's been following us _that_ long, you should've said something!"

"What's going on?" Rhett interjected.

"Too early to say, but I think some bounty hunter is after us. Don't worry, though; we'll scare him off."

With that Grieg ran down to the turrets and crawled up topside. "Rha'kl, you make sure we fly straight; kid, take the other turret!"

"Me?"

"Yeah you, Jedi! Get in there!"

_I wonder what Master Kalm would think if he knew what kind of crowd I got involved with, _Rhett thought. Nonetheless, he heeded Grieg's orders.

"Where's Viia, kid?"

"Still asleep, I think. I don't really know."

"Blast it. Alright, Rha'kl, take us out of hyperspace. Let's show this hunter what happens when he hunts the _Red Recluse!_"

Roaring in the cockpit, Rha'kl pulled the lever to bring them into realspace. As soon as they did, Rhett saw a strange-looking fighter drop out near them. It consisted of an oval-shaped hull with a vertical tailfin with two cannons on each end, plus other armaments spread around that made it look more like a capital ship than a star-fighter.

"Dammit, it's a Skipray. We're in for a nasty dogfight."

"Grieg… What's going on?"

"Viia! Sweetie, we're going to be attacked here soon; I need you in the cockpit with Rha'kl."

She yawned, then processed what the captain had said and snapped out of her stupor. "On it!"

The pilot of the blastboat seemed to have sensed their intentions, for it immediately zoomed in and launched a barrage of turbolaser fire. One managed to hit a non-critical part of the hull, but a skillful aileron roll prevented further damage.

"This guy must've been pretty good at his job to get that kind of modification; stay on your toes, Rha'kl!"

Rhett heard the top turret start firing and steeled his nerves for when the blastboat came under the _Recluse_. After a few moments it did, dodging the top turret fire.

Taking a moment to steady his breath and aim, he pulled the trigger and managed to shoot the top cannon off of the blastboat's tailfin. "Got him!"

"Great shot, kid, but don't get cocky!" Grieg fired on the boat as it flew up above the Recluse, but missed due to a barrel roll on Rha'kl's part. However, Rhett was able to line up another shot as a result of the _Recluse _being upside down, this time puncturing a hole in the boat's side.

He could feel the adrenaline rising in his bloodstream. _I wonder if these people do this all the time…_ He thought as the ship righted itself.

Maybe it was the adrenaline, but he was pretty sure it was the Force; either way, something was tugging at the back of his mind, trying to warn him of impending danger. Sure enough, the _Recluse _was rocked by a massive impact.

Grieg swore loudly and called down to Creesk, who was hanging on to T3 for dear life. "Creesk! Damage report!"

Letting go of T3, the tiny bird-man ran to a panel in the cockpit and looked at the diagnostics. "Not good, captain; our shields are down to 15%!"

"The kark did that come from?" Grieg looked through the transparisteel turret and froze. Rhett could sense the fear emanating from the captain, and looking at the radar he saw why. Seemingly out of nowhere a _second_ ship had attacked them; another blastboat.

"Blast it all, _now_ I know what's hitting us! Creesk, get us to lightspeed! Let's haul jets!"

But it was too late; the second blastboat hit them with another missile, crippling their shields and their hopes. "Hurry up!"

"Turning on backup drives! Jumping in three… One…"

"Three!" Viia shouted. Her shout was followed by a sudden lurch forward as the _Recluse_ re-entered hyperspace. Rhett heard two other _booms_ that indicated that the blastboats were following them.

"Argh, now I wish I had upgraded the backup drives!" Grieg quickly climbed back down to the cockpit and took the captain's seat. "How long 'til we get the primary engines back up?"

"Checking… It might be about 7.32 minutes before they can be turned on, Captain."

Rha'kl groaned. Even though he couldn't speak basic, everyone knew what he was saying. _We're karked._

"Mass shadow incoming!" Viia stated, noting the ship's long-range scanners.

"That… shouldn't be there." Grieg said after a long pause.

"And yet it is where we need to go," Rhett said out of the blue. When he noticed the staring, he continued, "I just have a feeling about it. Besides, if we can lose these hunters, we can hide out there if it's a planet."

"A lot of 'ifs' there, kid. But…" Grieg thought for a moment, then grinned. "I think there might be a way to make that a possibility. I'll be right back."

With that the captain of the ship got up and ran towards the engine room, with Creesk following in confusion. The moment they were out of sight Viia started giggling.

"Something I am missing here?" Rhett asked.

"Oh, nothing… I'm imagining what those hunters'll think when Grieg activates the defense measures."

Apparently, the _Red Recluse_ had a modification on the aft end that let out a thick smokescreen that went on for about a kilometer and obscured everything in its wake. All it took was a brief jump into realspace to activate, then a jump back into hyperspace to leave the trail.

How Grieg Salborra managed to make it work remained a mystery for decades.

And, as Rhett had sensed, the mass shadow blocking their way was indeed a planet; a rather lush jungle planet that had yet to be recorded on any star map. It was mostly a single landmass, with small oceans dotted here and there. There was no evidence of advanced settlement anywhere, which was a good thing in Grieg's book.

"Alright, looks like we've lost them. Good job, everyone; let's land here and lay low for a while."


	9. Chapter 9

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER NINE: SHADOW WAR

* * *

Planet Boeter, Starport 9, 2 BBY

* * *

Ensign Torrin of the Imperial Navy groaned as he carried out his duty as sensor operator at this small spaceport on this backwater planet. It had a population of fifty thousand, most of them herders in the vast plains of the main continent. There was a small Imperial garrison on Boeter, but the Empire in general thought the planet was minor in the grand scheme of things,

Torrin still wished they'd invest in some new sensors, though.

About an hour into his shift he noticed a large blip on the sensor panel. Probably just a big freighter, he thought. Then he paused, remembering that the freighters that carried away the planet's stock of meat didn't arrive for another few days.

Zooming in on the blip, Torrin attempted to identify what it was. He felt a surge of relief when he saw that it was an Imperial Star Destroyer; probably on its way to deliver the parts the commander had ordered.

That surge of relief turned to ice when he saw the call sign of the Destroyer, which had been reported missing a while back.

_Galvanizer._

Three more blips split off from the _Galvanizer; _they were too large to be TIEs, but too small to be shuttles. Maybe escape pods? No, there were too long for that, almost like needles.

He was about to call the commander for orders when he noticed that the holo-screens in the starport started to repeat a written message with a voiceover that sounded distinctly alien. Rodian, perhaps?

The message, in clear and bold lettering, said: _Start Evacuations. Or Perish._

* * *

Bridge of the _Galvanizer_

* * *

Phrike looked on with satisfaction as the kinetic needles fell towards the nearly defenseless planet, loaded with millions of ravenous and genetically altered piranha beetles. Guided by nothing but the tug of Boeter's gravity, the needles plummeted towards the planet's three main cities, guaranteeing that at least some of the populace would be eradicated.

The beetles would take care of the rest.

"My lord," Galba said, bowing as he approached. "Forgive me for disturbing you, but we have news regarding that… issue… you mentioned earlier."

"Ah yes, Galba. What do you have?"

"This footage from Bonadan, my lord." Galba handed Phrike a datapad, showing a rather intense duel between an Imperial Inquisitor – Phrike knew because his robes matched that of Argon – and a younger man that he knew quite _personally_.

_So… he lives after all. _"Where was he last seen?"

"Our sources say that he boarded a heavily modified HWK-1000 freighter bound for parts unknown." The officer's emotionless face let out an approximation of concern – perhaps reflecting the actual feeling he felt in his soul – and continued, "At this point, it could be halfway across the galaxy. What shall we do from here, my lord?"

Phrike gave the datapad back and turned away. "The Padawan _will_ expose himself again. It is only a matter of time…"


	10. Chapter 10

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER 10: THE DISTURBANCE

* * *

Uncharted Planet in Unknown Space

* * *

The planet on which the _Red Recluse_ was about to land didn't get a lot of visitors. Orbiting a typical yellow star in the midst of the Unknown Regions, ancient star maps written by a star-scout time forgot named the planet Altymer III, after its home star and position in the system. People who knew of the planet just called it Altymer.

In a clearing within its deep jungle a chicken-sized reptile looked up to see a silver speck in the sky. That speck grew louder and larger as it descended, ending in a roar that scared the unwitting critter and thousands of moth-like organisms away as it landed.

Inside the visitor, also known as the _Red Recluse,_ Rhett reeled back in his seat as a massive headache racked his mind. Through the Force he could feel the agonizing deaths of fifty thousand souls on a faraway planet. The last thing he remembered seeing before passing out from the pain was a haunting Mandalorian-esque mask staring balefully at him, as if it wanted to tear every fiber of his being to shreds.

Viia was one of the first to notice Rhett's discomfort. "You alright? You look sick. Do I need to bust out the medpa—What the kark?" she said as Rhett fell out of his seat. "Rha'kl, get a medpac!"

As the Yuzzem ran out of the cockpit, Grieg helped Viia get the unconscious Padawan back into his seat. "Come on, kid, wake up!" Grieg said, just a bit worried.

When Rhett finally came to, Viia suppressed the urge to smack him. "What was _that_ all about, idiot? You nearly gave me a heart attack!"

"I wasn't aware you cared, Viia," Creesk piped up.

"Shut up, birdbrain!"

"Disturbance…"

They all looked back at Rhett, who was recovering. "A disturbance… in the Force… A whole planet… Dying."

"A whole planet? Seems a little insane," Grieg said. "But… Creesk, check the Holonet; see if any news has come up." As the Mrlssi walked off grumbling, Grieg shouted after him, "And don't tune into that Imperial skrag that they're always shoving down our throats! Go underground."

Viia didn't know exactly what to think about Rhett's revelation. _A whole planet dying? What the kark would that mean, it got sucked into the Maw?_

"I have something, Captain!" Creesk called from the computer room. Leaving Rhett to recover, Viia followed Grieg to view the breaking story.

"I thought I told you to avoid the skrag!" Grieg shouted.

"Skrag or not, it's still tells us what's going on!" Creesk snapped back.

_By the Force…_ Viia thought as her mind cut through the Imperial banner-waving that the news anchor was doing to see the tragedy unfolding. Billions upon billions of ravenous insects blotted out the cityscape on the small planet being covered, devouring anything they came across. Every time the cloud of bugs shifted, Rhett shifted in his seat groaning.

"Sir… I'm not sure even the Imperials are this savage," Creesk said with a worried expression. "To my knowledge, there was no rebel presence on the planet, and even if there was-"

"Their reaction is too extreme, I got it," Grieg cut in. "So who dropped the bomb?"

"The Sith," came Rhett's voice from the passageway. He staggered into the room, clearly shaken by the disturbance in the Force.

"Sith? I thought those guys went extinct a thousand years ago."

"If that's so… then how do you explain this?" Rhett shook his head. "The Sith _are_ behind this. I can feel it. Specifically one with a Mandalorian mask."

He explained what he had seen after feeling the disturbance, causing Viia to feel disturbed herself. The mask Rhett was describing was indeed Mandalorian – but it was a design from his own time, not the helmet made famous by Boba Fett.

As crazy as it sounded to her… did someone _follow_ Rhett to the present? Or was Rhett supposed to follow _them?_

_No… there's got to be another explanation,_ Viia thought.

Right before she was about to speak, however, there was a loud banging on the hull of the _Recluse._ It was followed by someone shouting for them to "come out and identify" themselves.

"Grieg… this planet is deserted, right?"

"I had _thought so,_" Grieg replied, shrugging.

There was a sound of blaster fire, possibly a warning shot, and Grieg rushed to the cockpit to see who was shooting.

Viia followed him and when she saw what he did, she thought she had stepped nineteen years into the past.


	11. Chapter 11

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER ELEVEN: REMAINS OF HISTORY

* * *

Altymer III, 3 BBY

* * *

Nineteen years ago, the galaxy was convulsed by a galactic conflict known as the Clone Wars, named so because of the specialized soldiers that the Galactic Republic – now the Empire – used on the front lines. The so-called clone troopers were made from the genetic code of a single man: Jango Fett. Many know his "son" Boba as the greatest bounty hunter of his era and possible of all time.

The clones themselves, however, had been cycled out of the Imperial military by the present day; thus, Viia was very surprised to see the historic clone armor being worn by the men outside the _Red Recluse_.

"I said, come out and identify yourselves! We don't want to waste our munitions on you!"

"What, they plan to blow open the door to _my_ ship?" Grieg asked in disbelief. He grabbed the intercom, set it to sound outside, and said, "Alright, alright, we're coming! Don't blow up my ship!"

There was a brief pause, then the voice said, "Hurry up."

"Not exactly a tactful fellow, is he?" Rhett observed.

Grieg laughed. "They get it from their template. Rha'kl, get the doors; Creesk, stay on the ship in case we need to haul jets fast; Viia, Rhett… you're with me."

* * *

Rhett could sense the uneasiness surrounding Viia and Grieg regarding the soldiers outside, though he really couldn't imagine why; while, yes they looked a lot like Republic troopers, there were some subtle differences that made him question exactly whose side they were on.

They exited the ship, hands in the air, while the troopers – clad in grey Mandalorian-esque with green striping – checked them for weapons. They found Grieg's heavy blaster and Viia's hold-out and took them, but when one – Rhett figured he was the leader – found the Jedi's lightsaber, he stopped.

"Where'd you get this, son?" the trooper asked, his expression hidden behind his visor.

"I built it, sir. Is there a problem?"

"Yeah… far as we know, no one's built one of these in years. Then again…" Turning to Grieg, he barked, "You, spacer! What's the current star-date?"

"What, don't have a chronometer in that shell?" Getting a cold look from the trooper, he continued, "32:7."

"Sarge, if that's right, we've been on here for about sixteen years and five months," another trooper commented.

"Bloody… Did anyone follow you, spacer?"

"No! And his name is Grieg Salborra, clone!" Viia snapped.

This got an even colder look from the troopers, and it looked like they were going to snap when Rhett cut in. "There was an attempt, sir, but we managed to cover our trail after losing them."

He sighed, continuing, "We mean you no harm, sergeant. We are simply refugees cast adrift to this planet."

The leader turned to regard Rhett with a look that he could only guess was curiosity. "We understand, master Jedi." Turning to the other troopers, he waved them down, saying, "Stand down, Zeta Squad! These people are being truthful."

"So… at least we know the Empire's still kicking," a trooper different from the two that just spoke said.

"I'll let General Strona know we've got visitors," the fourth trooper added, pulling out a comlink. "General, we have visitors… One claims to be a Jedi."

A voice spoke inaudibly to the trooper, but he seemed to get the message. "Understood, General. We'll bring them in ASAP." Shutting off the comlink, he turned to the leader and said, "She wants us to bring them to the hideout; she wants to see the 'Jedi' herself."

The lead trooper glanced at Rhett, then to his comrade, then back to Rhett. Without turning to the other trooper, he muttered, "What are you thinking, Halie…"

Shrugging, he waved for Rhett, Viia, and Grieg to follow him. "If we take this trail, we'll be there before sundown. Leave your ship here; better not to rustle the wildlife with the engines."

There was a pained look on Grieg's face, as if parting with the _Recluse _was one of the worst suggestions ever made to him. But he sighed and turned on his own comlink. "Creesk, you copy?"

After getting an inaudible response, he said, "We're heading with these clones to their 'hideout.' Keep the ship safe, okay?"

Turning off the comlink – even as Creesk made a spirited attempt to dissuade the captain, he turned to the lead clone, saying, "This had better be worth it, 'Sarge'."

* * *

The jungle was surprisingly tame for a Wild Space planet, Viia thought to herself as she trailed behind Rhett. The clones – decked out in Katarn-class armor, thus identifying them as commandos – flanked them on either side, giving her and Grieg few options of escaping other than back the way they came.

And that was a bad idea if the stories she heard about the commandos' crack aim were true.

"So… you're clones?" Rhett asked the lead trooper, oblivious to the troopers' earlier reaction to Viia's remark.

The leader paused before saying, "I'm surprised you don't know about us, Jedi. We fought by your side for years during the Clone Wars. But that was…"

"Sixteen years ago," Rhett finished for him. "Sorry, sir, but I was frozen in carbonite for the last thirty-six hundred years, so I'm afraid I'm quite out of the loop when it comes to current events."

The leader bit back a laugh. "You're kidding, right? By then you'd be dead and buried thirty-six times!"

"I'm surprised I'm unharmed myself, actually. What's important, though, is that the Force guided me here for a reason. I believe that you might be a clue as to what that reason is."

Again the trooper paused. Then he said, "Yep, you sound like a Jedi. Probably should've believed you the first time."

"It's quite alright, Sergeant; I've been told that recent politics have been rather… _hostile_ to the Jedi Order."

"Damn straight, kid." Viia could've sworn the trooper was smiling underneath his visor.

"By the by, I don't believe we've been introduced, Sergeant. I am Rhett Ordan, Padawan of the… late… Master Kalm."

"RC-7793." The trooper paused. "But… most people just call me Jackson."

"A pleasure to meet you then, Jackson."

* * *

By the time they had gotten to a small grotto in the deepest part of the jungle, Jackson and his teammates had warmed up to Rhett. As they talked, Rhett got to know more about the Republic Commando team called Zeta Squad.

Jackson, the squad leader. From his first impressions, Rhett assumed that the other teammates respected him enough to deal with his methods.

Belfry, the heavy weapons expert. He carried a massive repeating blaster with his typical gear, though it didn't seem to weigh him down that much.

Ricochet, the sniper. Strapped to his back was a long blaster rifle with a rather advanced-looking scope on it – though that could possibly be only Clone Wars-new.

And Tinker, the engineer. Hooked along his belt were various tools and gizmos, some of which Rhett recognized but others for which he could not discern a purpose for.

All four of the commandos had a blaster rifle that could interchange between various modes, such as assault rifle, sniper rifle – which explained Ricochet's loadout - and grenade launcher.

Despite his casual disregard for blasters as uncivilized weapons, Rhett had to admit one thing: these ones were fairly impressive.

"Alright, we're here," Jackson declared, pointing at the grotto. "Let me call our clankers and have them let us in."

He approached the grotto, then took out his comlink and pushed a couple buttons. At that command, a couple of human-like droids walked out. They were dull-green in color, with almost skeletal framework and a stripped-down blaster carbine as their weapon.

They looked familiar to Rhett, and rightly so. He had seen the exact model of droid on a trip with Kalm to Balmorra – thirty-six hundred years ago.

"Where did you get the Okara droids?" Rhett asked.

Jackson glanced at him askance. "No idea what you're talking about, kid. These droids have been here longer than we have; we found them when we touched down."

"Sounds a lot like where we found him," Viia said, motioning to Rhett. "There was an old T3 unit looking after his body, and a security droid that… almost killed me, to be honest." That last part she whispered, with her head turned away.

"Well, no need to worry about these ones." Belfry said. "Although when we arrived, they did try to kill us; but one of us shouted the General's name and they just stopped attacking." Belfry cocked his head to the side as he continued, "Kind of strange that they knew her name; it was like they were put here for her or something like that."

"Perhaps," Rhett said. "But then maybe…"

"Maybe what?"

"Never mind, it's probably nothing," he said with a quick smile. "Shall we meet with the General?"

As the sentry droid X-5s parted to let them in, Rhett finished his statement in his head. _Maybe they were put here for **me**_.

* * *

**For the curious...**

**The date that Grieg gave was what the citizens of the pre-Endor galaxy used when talking about star-dates. According to Wookieepedia, the star-date in this calendar for the Battle of Geonosis (Episode II) would be year 16. Basically it's like BC/AD in our calendar. **

**This is important because I plan to use this dating system for all subsequent chapters. Just fair warning here so you're not confused later. **

**Cheers!**


	12. Chapter 12

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER TWELVE: YOU DON'T KNOW THE POWER...

* * *

Somewhere in Wild Space, Star-date 32:7

* * *

The _Galvanizer_ ripped through hyperspace, en route to yet another planet to scour and eventually butcher. Phrike paced back and forth on its bridge, unnerved that his quarry has yet to use any trackable trace of the Force.

_He is only an apprentice… Where does he get his self-control?_ He pondered this and more, almost unaware of Moros as he approached.

"My lord, we are closing in on Tramast."

Phrike nearly jumped out of his armor at this, but retained his calm in front of his apprentice. "What of it?"

"Captain Galba tells me that a KDY R&amp;D team was stationed there; said that they were developing a new type of starfighter."

"Interesting… More flies to swarm the carcass, I suppose."

The metaphor seemed to be lost on Moros. "Anyway… they also have a contingent of Star Destroyers guarding the planet. Even with our more… experimental weapons, we cannot hope to win a fight like this with one ship."

Phrike mused on this for a moment, then said, "That much is true. But whomever said anything about fighting?"

There was a nervous pause, then Moros said, "Are you certain you wish to try that technique again? The last time you did that, we nearly lost you."

A grin spread across Phrike's lips, covered by his breathing apparatus. "I know that. That is why _you_ are going to help me."

* * *

_He can't expect this to work a second time, can he? _Moros thought as he was once again clapped in irons on board the flagship of the Tramast defense fleet, the _Dreadnaught-class_ heavy cruiser known as _Nonpareil._ Old, but not as old as Moros and his Master, the 600-meter cruiser was accompanied by seven 350-meter _Carrack-class_ light cruisers, which the Cathar Sith noted were heavily armed and, combined with the _Nonpareil,_ would probably blast the _Galvanizer_ to atoms.

And Phrike planned to make them his own… The audacity of it surprised even his right-hand man.

The captain of the _Nonpareil_ was just as imposing as the ship itself; a tall, burly blond-haired human with the rank of commander and a massive scar across the right side of his face. The scar was so bad it must've put out his right eye; he wore an eye-patch with the Imperial logo on it, so Moros didn't know for sure.

"So… what brings you here to Tramast, vermin?" the commander asked, chesting up to the Cathar and… whatever the blazes he thought Phrike was.

"Commander Eliore, I presume?" Phrike asked, a curious tone in his modulated voice. "I must say, this is quite the impressive little flotilla you have."

Despite himself, Eliore smirked a bit. "You think _this_ is impressive, vermin? The might of the entire fleet would shock you into the next life!"

"Yes… That is exactly why I intend to take it."

"That's right—Wait, what?"

"Starting with _you_, Commander." As an invisible Force vortex gathered around Phrike, Moros took the cue and added his own energy to the ritual, allowing Phrike's mind to wash over Eliore, and then his crew. Sensing the help of the other apprentices, Moros realized that Phrike intended to not just take the _Nonpareil._

He intended to take the entire fleet. All in one go.

* * *

Many light-years away, in the bustling Imperial Center, an ancient-looking hooded man sat on his throne and noted the large disturbance in the Force. Chuckling a bit to himself, he pressed a button on the arm of his throne, establishing contact with one of the most feared – and dangerous – men in the galaxy.

* * *

**Song of the Session: Imperial March (Instrumental) - Celldweller**


	13. Chapter 13

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE WASTES OF ALTYMER

* * *

Zeta Squad Hideout, Altymer III,

Star Date: 32:7:21

* * *

Viia had really expected the squad to look older, she really did. After all, they were clones, artificially aged over ten years to be the exact biological age as their template, Jango Fett, at the time of creation. This of course led to most early clone troopers that _weren't_ killed in the Clone Wars to expire shortly before the present, with later models surviving into the modern day.

But for some reason… The members of Zeta Squad looked almost _exactly_ as Fett did, or at least what she knew from history holos Creesk kept around. Even weirder was Jackson, who actually looked younger than the original Jango!

"How in the…?" she asked in a mumble as the squad one by one removed their helmets. They had entered an turbolift that seemed like it could fall apart at any moment due to rusting, but ran without problem all the way to the bottom.

"Long story, kid," Belfry replied, even though she hadn't directed the question to any of them. "Let's just say we had… _extra_ help from the cloners when we went AWOL."

"Oh."

They had gotten to the bottom floor. When they walked out they were greeted by a roomy hangar with several old ships scattered about. Most of them were fighters like V-wings – probably stolen from the Empire – but one ship stood out, as it was one: a transport and two: vert clearly the most-used of all the ships.

And that was saying a lot, to be honest.

"Wow, a B-7 light freighter?" Viia said, astounded. "I'm surprised that those things hadn't all rusted away! They're _ancient_, like, probably older than the… droids…"

She quickly realized that she made a mistake when she caught Rhett giving her a annoyed glance. "Rhett, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"None taken. Sergeant Jackson, may I meet with the General now?"

The change in tone was apparent, and Viia backed down as Jackson said, "Of course, Rhett. Right this way."

As they walked off, Tinker took Grieg to the side and said, "You can call your ship down here if you want; we've got room for a few more her size."

"I can see that," Grieg replied, clearly impressed with the almost four-thousand-year-old hangar. "I'll give Creesk a call and tell him to get the Recluse over here. Maybe we can get a new body for that old T3 unit we found with Rhett; thing's been suffering ever since we picked them up."

"I'll see if I can help with that; we've got a couple of tinnies that you can use. Mostly astro-droids if that's what a T3 is."

"Sounds about right. Show me what you've got!"

Grieg and Tinker walked off to browse replacement bodies for T3, leaving Viia alone with her thoughts – Belfry and Bullseye had gone with Jackson and Rhett. _I've done karked it up with Rhett,_ she thought as she went with Grieg to check out the droids.

* * *

_Definitely looks like an enclave,_ Rhett thought as he walked into Halie Strona's "meditation room". Sitting at its center was the General herself, a violet-skinned female Sephi dressed in a Jedi tunic. The first – and only – things needed to be known about Sephis was that they had pointy, elven ears and lived an extraordinarily long time, the latter being a trait Rhett wished he had.

_If I was immortal, maybe I wouldn't have to have been frozen,_ he thought inwardly as Halie got up to greet him. Her warm brown eyes regarded him with a motherly gaze as he bowed, returning the gesture.

"Jackson told me you were coming. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, Rhett Ordan."

_That pretty much confirms why I'm here_, Rhett thought, even as Jackson balked.

"Uh, General… how do you know his name?"

Halie smiled. "His name was in the databanks, remember? It said he would arrive at some point, but it didn't say when." She extended a hand to Rhett, still smiling. "We have much to discuss."

After Rhett finished his story, Halie nodded slowly and said, "So, it was true all along…"

"What was true?"

"In the last days of the Clone Wars, I was contacted by a Jedi sect known as the Prophets of Tython. They warned me of my troops' eventual treachery, and guided me here to Altymer. The planet's atmosphere masks the Force, meaning Jedi are safe from their enemies so long as they stay."

She regarded him with a sad look. "However, these same Jedi warned me that you would not stay long."

"Why not?" Jackson asked out of turn. "He's perfectly safe here, and we've already contacted others to join us. A safe haven's clearly what the Prophets wanted him to find; so why would he leave?"

Another sad smile spread across her lips. "Because… fate has other plans for our friend Rhett Ordan. An ancient enemy… one not so ancient in his view, but to ours… very much so."

Her eyes bored into Rhett as she continued, "I have sensed the disturbances in the Force. The Mandalorian mask. I believe he was sent here from the past to thwart your fate."

"So someone _did_ follow me here," Rhett concluded.

"Or maybe you followed them. Who is to say whether our decisions were influenced by our enemy's?" She sighed. "The Force works in strange ways… But do not fret; a haven this is, and a haven it shall remain if you ever need it."

"Thank you, Master Strona. But you are right," Rhett said as he got up to leave. "I cannot stay long. That man is still out there, causing mayhem and disrupting the Force wherever he can. I intend to find him before he finds me."

Halie smiled. "You show a resolve matched by the best of our Order. Before you go, however…"

She pulled out a small datacard and handed it to him. "The Prophets that contacted me also said that these coordinates would be of special interest to you. Whatever path you may choose… May the Force guide you there."

They bowed, and then Rhett exited the room. Jackson looked at her and said, "You sure we should just let him walk out the door?"

She smiled lovingly at him. "Oh, Jackson… He knows he is welcome here. Do not fret; he will return."

* * *

Viia caught him just as he was headed for the turbolift. "Rhett, I'm sorry about the things I said when we got here."

He looked up from the datacard he was holding, confused. "What things?"

She felt her face become red. "The things I said about this place being ancient! I thought I had hurt your feelings, you karking laserbrain!" She bit back any further expletives, realizing that she was just making it worse.

Instead of getting angry, Rhett only shook his head. "Viia, I wasn't hurt by that. I understand that you weren't talking about me specifically. It's alright."

Now… Viia wasn't one to tear up over anything. But even then she felt a tear welling up in her eye. "I'm sorry… I just… I know we haven't known each other for long, but… I didn't want to lose you as a friend…"

She reached up to wipe away the tear, but Rhett's hand had gotten there first. She just stood there as he wiped it away and let his hand linger before pulling back.

"You have shown nothing but kindness to me, Viia. Why would I _not_ be your friend?

She managed to smile. "Thanks, Rhett. I… I've never had a real friend before."

"You have one in me." He nodded, then said, "Well, goodbye for now, Viia."

"Wait, what? Where are you going?"

He waved the datacard. "This holds coordinates to a location here on Altymer; General Strona's contacts told her that it led to somewhere important." He stepped around her, getting on the turbolift. "I'm going to find out what."

A thousand thoughts coursed through Viia's mind at that moment, but all she could say after a long pause was, "Okay. Come back safely, alright?"

He smiled. "Of course. May the Force be with you."


	14. Chapter 14

**STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE**

**CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE JEDI PROPHETS**

* * *

Planet: Altymer III

Star-Date: 32:7:21

* * *

The trip from Zeta Squad's hideout to the coordinates that Halie provided to Rhett would've taken a few days to complete on foot. Luckily, technology was there to help once again, as he took one of the squad's rather advanced speeder bikes to shorten the journey.

With it, he was able to clear the jungle canopy and make the trip in two hours. What he found baffled him.

Situated at the location of the coordinates was a number of large stones, formed in a circle around what looked like a large cube in the center. Landing, Rhett walked up to the stones to find that they weren't stones at all; rather, they were durasteel pillars drilled into the ground, as if to accentuate the location of the cube.

Taking a few steps toward the cube caused some of the pillars to glow, making Rhett stop to reexamine them.

_I know what these are now,_ Rhett thought, taking the next few steps to the cube. When he was a good yard away, the cube itself started to glow and then opened up to reveal the intricate machine built within. A machine only a Jedi could build properly.

"Hello, Rhett Ordan," the wizened Cerean male said as his holographic form materialized before him. "You may or may not remember me, but my name is Bo-Ha-Katen. I trained your Master in the Jedi arts."

"Yes, I remember," Rhett said, knowing that the holocron would await an answer. A holocron is unique from a typical holographic device in that the Jedi - or Sith – that recorded it could have their spirit inhabit the holocron and give it a surprising amount of self-awareness. It was essentially a way in which a Force-sensitive being could pass on his or her teachings to new generations, even after they had passed into the Force.

Unfortunately for Rhett in the present, Kalm in the past didn't have fond memories of Bo-Ha-Katen."

"Good. I expected as much from my Padawan's pupil. Now, I realize that your Master may not have had the… _brightest_ recollection of his time under me, but it was more from… _philosophical_ differences than anything else." Katen coughed, his spirit clearly remembering those "differences".

"But I assure, you, Ordan, that I am not your enemy. In fact, I carry a message for you, should you choose to hear it."

_Better to hear it than not to and regret it later,_ Rhett thought. "Go ahead."

"Ah, so he actually listens?" Katen paused to contemplate this. "Maybe he is a better Jedi than his Master…"

A brief rush of anger rose in Rhett's mind, but he quickly subdued it. "I'm waiting."

Katen snorted. "So impatient, though… Very well. The message is this: Go to Rylvania. Find a structure like this one, and hear what the Master there has to say."

"That's it?" Rhett asked. "Nothing more… substantial?"

"Patience, Padawan. There is also a gift for you under this holocron. Perhaps it will be of use to you…"

Katen turned his head back, apparently sensing something approaching. "Ready your weapon, Padawan. Something wicked this way comes…"

Rhett caught a glimpse of the threat as Katen's image disappeared – one of the blast-boat that had chased the _Recluse_ from Bonadan. The other one flew in too, followed by a medium-sized transport that deposited a number of blaster-toting Rodians that immediately opened fire on him.

_Why can't we talk about this?_ Rhett thought, dodging the blaster bolts and reluctantly drawing his lightsaber. Dodging more bolts, he advanced quickly, chopping one Rodian in half before vaulting over him to slash another. He twirled around and raised his hand, throwing three back and rocking the blast-boat slightly.

That gave him an idea. He focused his mind on the blast-boat, using a technique for destroying machinery to send it careening into the other boat. Both exploded with remarkably force, causing the transport to back off a ways.

Now the transport landed, and a large armored being stepped out. Rhett figured that he was just another humanoid species, but a nagging feeling in his mind told him to be wary.

The being roared, charging at him. Rhett sidestepped and swiped his saber at the being's shoulder, cutting its arm clean off as it passed him. Looking down, Rhett realized that the arm was boneless; instead of bones, a mass of muscles squirmed in the armor, dissolving into nothingness in a matter of seconds.

Looking up, Rhett saw the being calmly approach, its expression unknown under its helmet. It picked up the empty arm-piece with its free hand and put it up to the charred stump that was his shoulder. More muscles jetted into the armor, completely filling it with a newly regenerated arm.

_This is going to be harder than I thought._

Rhett ducked under the being's next punch, slashing across its mid-section and searing into the armor. They traded blows for a few moments more, until Rhett jumped up and landed an uppercut on the being's jaw, knocking its helmet off and revealing its bald head and mouth full of fangs.

While the being was stunned, he carved wildly into it, leaving a number of vicious gashes across its chest and mid-section. Finally, with a savage roar, Rhett channeled the Force into one final strike, thrusting forward with his lightsaber into the being's chest. The force from the blow caused the being to explode into a million pieces, muscles and nerve endings flying everywhere. Only the helmet remained, and it laid a short distance from the rest of the armor, empty and very much dead.

"Hope I never have to do _that_ again," Rhett said to himself, switching his lightsaber off. He then returned to the holocron and, heeding Katen's second part of his message, found the gift under it.

Now in his hand was a small green crystal, another pontite. Rhett sighed at this discovery; he would've appreciated it more if Grieg hadn't already given him a pontite crystal at Bonadan.

Then the gears in his head started turning, and he smiled. _I might be able to work with this._


	15. Chapter 15

STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE

CHAPTER FIFTEEN: THE ISOLATOR

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Made a minor continuity edit to Chapter One of this story.**

* * *

The _Galvanizer_, 32:7:21

* * *

"Most impressive, my Master," Nyx said when Phrike and Moros returned from the _Nonpareil_.

Moros smiled as Phrike said, "Thank you, my dear. I am told that these particular ships are quite adept in fighting larger ones."

"We still need more," Oizys grunted. "One does not take on an Empire with a token fleet."

"You _dare_ question the Master's judgement?" Nyx shouted, but Phrike waved dismissively before she could completely explode.

"Oizys has a point, Nyx; I do believe that at least our personnel problems have been solved, however."

The two apprentices looked at him strangely, to which Phrike waved to Moros to explain.

"Clones, my friends. This planet has a number of cloning cylinders that, with a little _extra_ coaxing, can produce soldiers in a matter of days."

"My lord, may I add something?" Galba asked. Getting a nod from Phrike, he continued, "While it _is_ true that Spaarti clones can be grown very quickly, they make poor soldiers; we have had experience with them during the Clone Wars, and, well…"

"They couldn't hit the broadside of a MTT!" an ensign spoke up, but quickly shut up as Galba glared at him.

"Yes… what he said."

"A rather interesting way of putting it, Galba. However, I believe I have a workaround for even that. But for that… I need to go to Korriban."

"Korriban?" Oizys said, cocking his head to the side. "Why Korriban? Do we need something from the Academy?"

This question got a glare from Nyx, but a sad laugh from Phrike. "Ah, my apprentice… I suppose no one taught you the history of our origins. There, at Korriban, the Sith were born. And it is there that they shall be _re_born."

* * *

Korriban

* * *

Phrike had elected to go to the Sith tomb-world with only Moros at his side, taking the old Fury. The ship had been retrofitted with technology taken from both the _Galvanizer_ and Tramast, making it faster than ever. Still, it took several hours for them to arrive.

"Ah… looks like our Imperial friends have left some ships here."

"My lord, I know that it is tempting," Moros said, "but we might benefit from running this blockade rather than… bending it."

Phrike smiled under his helm, a painful gesture but an uncontrolled one. "I know, my friend. I do believe I've alerted the new 'Emperor' already. Take the helm."

They landed with little trouble, after Moros had mind-tricked the starport official into letting them pass. The remains of the Sith Academy were haunting for them, as they had both trained there as Sith acolytes in their heyday.

Now, all that remained were memories of a lost past.

"I believe our gift was left over here, Moros."

Phrike guided the Cathar onto the road, passing numerous tombs before finally coming across a small, nondescript one that was mainly hidden behind several larger ones.

"My lord… Whose tomb is this?"

A sense of uneasiness gripped the armored Sith as he stared at the tomb door.

"Mine."

Then, with a tug of the Force, he pulled the door clean off, revealing that the tomb was empty except for a meter-tall triangle with Sith writing on the sides. The object seemed to levitate a few centimeters off the ground as Phrike approached it, making Moros uncertain of his Master's plans with it.

"The Force Isolator. Able to create a field in which the Force… _ceases_ to function." Phrike turned to Moros. "I believe if we sever the clones from the Force, they will become more… pliant, shall we say."

Moros grinned widely, baring his fangs. "I like it."


End file.
